Missing My Dad On Father’s Day

I’m not sure how it’s going to go, to be honest. It won’t be the same without him here.

I’ve actually been thinking about him quite a bit lately. I keep seeing people who remind me of him. See, we moved into a new building where I work and they’ve been doing a lot of external renovation and now they’re onto the landscaping, so there are guys all over the place who look like my dad. You know the look.

My dad worked outside as far back as I can remember. He worked for the city and took care of the parks and public lands. He usually wore a baseball cap and a sleeveless shirt, filthy by the end of the work day. He’d wear shorts and boots or his New Balance cross trainers. And he was always tan. You probably see guys like my dad on your way to work or on your drive home. Not afraid to get dirty. Maybe sucking on a cigarette.

He was a hard worker, my dad. He took pride in what he did, as he should have. He was good at it. “If you’re gonna do it, you might as well do it right the first time,” he’d say. He abhorred the bureaucracy that came with being a city worker, but he always fought for what was right. Whether it was getting financing for the parks, or taking care of his employees, he did all he could to make sure the people he served got what they deserved. Whether it was work or family, everybody else came first. I’ve always admired that about him.

He knew his limitations, too, I think. He wasn’t highly educated, but he always knew what he was talking about. He didn’t read much and writing wasn’t his forte, but he could get the job done. I remember him showing me letters he’d written for something at work a few times, not asking for my approval, but I could tell he was looking for it. Just to make sure it was as good as he thought it was, ya know? Even though writing those letters wasn’t his strong suit, he did it anyway and he did to the best of his ability.

He did everything that way.

Whether as an employee or a boss, a son or a brother or an uncle, a mentor or a coach, a friend or a teammate, a husband or a grandfather or…

A dad.

There is no doubt in my mind that my dad gave it everything he had. He gave his best in every capacity. He wasn’t perfect. He was no saint, that’s for damn sure. But, like a good coach, he got the best out of what he had.